"Why do you always do this?" Myx asked.
I wasn't going to give in this early to the whining and the badgering, so I intended to just ignore the question.
"Do what?" Dammit! I guess Myx's stare was insistent enough to warrant a response--however feeble.
"You always seem to want to balance me, like a ball on the end of a seal's nose--just for the added amusement."
"Not to mention the tension, the anticipation that you might fall--I mean ... I don't do this on purpose."
"You're a lyin' sacka--"
"Theses alarm boxes are hardly used any more," I interrupted. I didn't think Myx would add much along that previous line of conversation.
"Before phones were in every home, they were a necessity. Now, cell phones make them almost obsolete," Myx said.
Good. Myx was--
"You want me to fall, don't you?"
"Want may be too strong a word," I said.
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